


I'll Always Be Here

by didsomeonesaybioshock



Category: BioShock
Genre: Crying, Drabble, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 15:56:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didsomeonesaybioshock/pseuds/didsomeonesaybioshock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moira, heartbroken over recent news about her father, turns to Frank for comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Always Be Here

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note: Meeps is Frank's nickname for Moira, and Bronx is Moira's nickname for Frank. Reasons behind those will be revealed in later works. (although it's probably obvious why Frank's nickname is Bronx, hence his accent)

            The door to the bar entrance slammed open, making Frank’s head snap around from his place behind the counter. Who the fuck had the balls to go around roughing with _his_ fine establishment? He payed good money to get that door replaced a few months back. He opened his mouth to let loose a string of curses towards the brute busting open his door when he realized who was behind it.

            “Moira,” he drawled happily, a smile spreading across his face. It was seven thirty, the bar only occupied by three of his regulars. One of the men, Terry, slouched across the countertop, snoring next to his half-finished beer. Jason and Leonard chatted a few stools away, stuck on the slaughter of the Yankees the night prior against the Red Sox. Usually Moira’s father was the fourth, perched on a stool at the end sipping on Jameson whiskey, his ride of choice. He had wondered where he had run off to tonight. Now, Frank figured, he was going to find out. “I was plannin’ on coming by tomorrow since I knew you worked today. Where the hell’s your pa? I ain’t seen him-“

            Frank stopped when he noticed her eyes. Her usually bright and perky brown orbs were bloodshot and swollen, the entire area around them a bright red. She stared at him blankly, a small sniffle escaping from her nose every once in a while. Her lips twitched slightly and her breathing was shallow. Too shallow. After knowing her for almost 13 years, Frank had developed a keen sense that detected when Moira’s anxiety attacks were about to come on. Her limbs trembled visibly, much so that Frank could see it from across the room. He put glass and rag that he had been holding down and hurried over to her, crossing the room in hurried strides. He was almost to her when a sob ripped through her body, her knees buckling as she toppled to floor. He lunged forward and caught her in his arms, wrapping protectively around her shaking figure and his lips pressed to her silky brown hair.

            “Meeps, baby, what’s going on?” He held her tight against his chest, her sobs muffled into the fabric of his white button up. He stroked her hair and shushed her, pressing his lips to her ear. “I’m right here, doll, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. I’m with you till’ the end, Meeps. I’m right here-“ He was sure she couldn’t understand what he was saying over the struggled cries and ragged breaths she was choking on, but he knew that his voice alone was enough to bring her back to reality. He turned his head slightly towards the bar, where Jason and Leonard had both risen from their stools. Terry still slumped onto the bar, his snores very much audible in the small space. Frank nodded towards the door. “Do you mind stepping out for a bit? I’m gonna lock up for a 10 minute break.”

             Jason and Leonard nodded wordlessly, Jason turning to Terry and gripping his left trap. “T-Man, we gotta step out for a sec. Barkeep’s gotta’ take care of business.” Jason murmured almost inaudibly, barely loud enough for Terry to hear. He grumbled something unintelligible into his arm, shaking his head slowly.

             “Let’s go, Terry boy. Now.” Leonard’s thick Irish accent drawled, his callused hands gripping the collar of his shirt and yanking his body up from the bar. He limply obliged, groaning loudly with his eyes still half closed. Jason sighed and slung his arm over his shoulder, Leonard taking the other.

             “We got this one, boss,” Jason sighed, both men trying to drag the drunk out of the saloon as fast as they could. They maneuvered around Moira and Frank and out the door. Frank watched them go with an expressionless face, waiting until they were fully through the threshold. Slowly he rose, Moira still wrapped firmly in his arms, her body limp against his broad torso. With his free hand he shut the door firmly, twisting the lock on the handle and flipping the homemade “Open” sign to “Closed.” Moira had helped him make that sign a few months after they had reunited last, giving it to him as a “Just-Because-I-Can” gift. He had been thrilled; her handwriting was perfect, just the right combination of messy tied with a dash of femininity and neatness. She had done it in mahogany wood she had sanded down herself and polished with finisher. That was the thing he loved about Moira; she was all class and woman, but had that masculine side to her that harbored her love for sports, food, automotives and any type of engineering or woodworking. It was such a turn on for him.

             He carried her over to the bar and sat her on one of the stools, pushing her back a bit to look into her eyes. Her head hung and she stared at his feet, unable to look at him. Tears raced each other one by one to her jawline and below, staining her face with bitter moister and a light ring of mascara under her eyes. He gently caressed her cheek and whipped away her tears from her eyes with his thumb, offering her a small but comforting smile.

             They didn’t speak for a moment, the bar quiet as all hell. Frank finally decided to say something. “Moira, if you need to-“

             “He’s sick.” Moira practically choked out in the middle of his sentence, making him raise an eyebrow. Her breathing was slower but still just as fast. She was close to passing out if she kept it up. He knew he would have to coax the reason out of her fast in order to avoid a hospital visit.

             “Who’s sick, Moira? You gotta tell me.” Frank spoke gently, rubbing her shoulders soothingly the way he knew she liked. “Do we need to call a doctor?”

             “My-my father…” She took a ragged breath, trying to slow her racing thoughts. She was beginning to feel light headed and weak, clutching onto Frank’s arm for support. “It’s my pa-“

             “Did that old man catch the god damn flu again?” Frank tried to make light of it in an attempt to cheer her up. He took her chin in his larger fingers gently and smiled down at her. “I really gotta make sure he gets to bed earlier. If he didn’t stay here til’ all hours of the night-“

             “Cancer.”

            Frank froze, his blue eyes wide. His fingers tensed against her face as tears began to roll down her cheeks once more. His lip twitched slightly. “What?” He croaked out in disbelief. _Cancer?_ That couldn’t be right.

             “He found out this morning,” Moira looked away, her eyes trained on anything other than Frank’s face. “Liver cancer, stage two. And it’s spreading fast. They don’t know how long…” She choked down another sob, trying to stay strong for the moment. She felt Frank’s piercing blue eyes bore into her profile. “They don’t know how long he has. It’s bad, Frank, it’s so bad-“

             She let loose another wave of cries, her voice echoing off the walls of the small establishment, letting her head fall into her hands. Her fingers tugged at the roots of her hair, something she did when she was frustrated. When she was lost.  

             Frank kneeled before her, his chin barely high enough to sit atop her knee. She peered down at him with swollen red eyes, her lids hardly able to stay open as she locked her gaze on him. He reached up slowly and took her hands in his, his fingers closing over them like they were made of glass. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

             “Do you remember that one time back at the theatre, when you came to rehearsal one day and said your pa had landed himself in the hospital?” Frank asked her. Her lip twitched slightly as she recalled the day, shaking her head.

             “He got rolled over by an old Ford buggy.” Moira couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath. “Trying to pull a damn cat out from the rotors.”

             “The doctor said he wouldn’t ever be able to walk again, remember? They said that the odds were slim to none he would have full movement during the rest of his lifetime.” Frank gave Moira’s hands a squeeze. “And what did he do 3 weeks later?”

             “Walked over to the pub down the street from the theatre.”

             “That’s right.” Frank smiled. “Or when he got bit by that rabid dog over near the old orphanage, and the doctors thought he was done for. A week later he was back in the shop. And what about that time that your pa had 12 shots of whiskey a few years back? When someone finally found him passed out cold in a bush near the downtown park, and the hospital didn’t think he was going to wake up?”

             Moira was smiling now. Her tears had finally stopped falling, leaving a few stragglers to cling to her skin as she listened. He wiped them away and continued. “What I’m trying to say is, your pa’s the strongest man I’ve ever met. Not to mention, he’s the most stubborn. And I’ve met some stubborn ass people in my life. In fact, one is sitting in front of me right now…” She punched his arm and he chuckled. “He’s going to fight this. He’s not going to give up. And he’s going to _win,_ Moira. He will. I know it. The doctors are always wrong with him. They always have been. And I know they’re wrong this time..”

             Tears began to fill back in her eyes as she nodded at his words, trying to believe them as best she could. He brought her fingers to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles, never breaking eye contact with her all the while. He pulled away just slightly. “And I’m with you for the whole ride. I’m with all of you. No matter what happens, I’ll be there for you. I’ll be your punching bag, your shoulder to cry on, your hand to hold, your pillow to scream into, whatever you need I’ll do it for you. Because y’mean the world to me.”

             Moira pulled her hands from his and brought them to his face, holding him tenderly in her palms as she hastily leaned down and kissed him with such passion he let an involuntary sigh escape his throat. Her lips were so soft, so warm and full, and he never grew tired of her kiss. He wound his fingers through her gorgeous brown locks, pulling her as close as she could get to him without yanking her down to the floor with him. She guided his lips to part and her tongue explored his mouth, a heated hunger and desire behind her movements. He couldn’t hold back the moans from his chest, wanting so badly to pin her to the wall and make her come undone in his hands. After a moment she pulled away, both of them breathless and wanting. She smiled, her eyes a little brighter than before.

             “Thank you, Bronx.” She murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You always know just what to say.”

             Frank rose and wrapped his arms around her, his cheek resting on the top of her head. Her arms looped around his torso and her heartbeat thumped steady against his body. He sighed and kissed her hair. “I’ll always be here for you.” He spoke quietly, wondering what the hell was coming next.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I've been on a bit of a writing kick lately so expect more things like this very soon. :)


End file.
